Weekend recap. (Warning: graphic photos of chicken processing)

This could be the longest post in history, but I'll try to keep it brief. (Edited to add: I failed.)

Saturday we had a planned appointment at some friends' farm to help slaughter chickens and turkeys. We'd never done it before, but we wanted to try some of their animals raised without hormones, antibiotics, and other stuff we'd rather not eat. If you volunteer to help with the processing, you get the birds for a good price. So off we went.

We were greeted by Olive the calf. I love calves. Olive has the most beautiful eyes and long eyelashes. And she's just so sweet! Until you realize you're standing too close and and she's nursing on your sweatshirt.

Mr. Farm Boss did the job of killing the chickens while we watched and waited for our jobs to begin.
Abbie's not sure she's going to Chick-fil-a ever again.

Once the birds are dead, they are scalded in super-hot water, which makes their feathers come out easier. Then they're tossed into a machine Mr. Boss made that gets out most of the feathers.

After that they go to the first table where any remaining feathers are picked off and the heads and feet are removed. This was Abbie's job along with Kevin, Cori, and two of the boss's boys.

They get rinsed and head to the gutting table. Here's Mrs. Boss giving us a gutting lesson. It's really pretty easy once you do a couple.

Then they get washed thoroughly and either wrapped in paper or packed in freezer bags. Nina was a champion washer.

We processed 90 chickens and then started on the turkeys. Same routine, bigger bird. Ben volunteered to gut the first one.

Noelle actually did one willingly. Doesn't she look like she's having fun?

I even put my camera down for a few minutes to do a few with a little coaching.

But the highlight of the day was the pair of kittens hanging around. Abbie and Man-squared: the children of the man who hates cats.

Sorry if that was all too much information, but at least now I feel like if I were lost in the wilderness I could gut my own food . . . if I could catch it.

Then came Sunday, when Tony (ze trainer who trains: name that movie) got baptized. I was allowed to act as the mom and go up to the baptistry for photos:

We invited Tony to church last spring, the week before Easter. He's been coming with us ever since, asking questions.

We've had many, many conversations with him over the past few months, and more people than I can count have been praying for him—people he will probably never meet until we get to heaven.

Tony trusted the Lord Jesus for his salvation a few weeks ago at our fall revival. He invited his family and all his old friends from high school to come witness his baptism. 

Watching his conversion from start to finish has blessed me in ways I can't even put into words. It's like going back and experiencing my own all over again. God is so good to us.

Then Sunday afternoon a few people from our Sunday school class came over to eat lunch and make cards for the nursing home residents (we go the first Sunday of each month to sing and preach). My job was cooking grilled cheese and tomato soup, and blond brownies. Their job was making cards, which they did to the extreme.

It was a great weekend all around (aside from the fact that Ben spent Sunday with a nasty sore throat), and now we're prepping for Thanksgiving. Three turkeys, two cheesecakes plus pumpkin and apple pies, stuffing, potatoes, sweet potato casserole, green beans and Brussels sprouts, homemade bread, cranberry sauce, . . . I'm running 6 miles tomorrow in anticipation.

Be thankful ~